Unspoken
by Catalina H
Summary: Lindsay Eppes was always the quiet one. But she didn't have to use words for her older brother Don to understand her. Don trusted Lindsay to keep his secrets, and he kept hers. *A series of oneshots right now, can be read separate or together*
1. Rough Night?

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything NUMB3RS.**

**A/N: This is a series of oneshots right now. Can be seen as a story I guess, and it may turn out that way later on, but for right now you could technically read each chapter as a separate oneshot. And each will bounce back and forth between the present (set season 2ish) and the past (will give how many years in the past).**

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Rough Night?

**Present...**

"Hey Linds," Don greeted tiredly, slurring slightly.

Lindsay smiled at her brother as the bartender handed her his keys. Don wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she helped him off the barstool.

As they were walking out, Don muttered, "Let's not tell Dad or Charlie about this, okay?"

She nodded in agreement. He'd just finished a pretty rough case, and Don wasn't one to talk about his feelings. Besides, this wasn't the first time Lindsay had helped her brother when he was drunk, and she doubted it would be the last.

**Twenty-one years ago...**

Fourteen year old Don stumbled inside the Craftsman, trying not to make too much noise. He knew his parents would still be up, but he was trying to avoid bumping into them and getting in trouble for being drunk.

After closing the front door behind him, Don turned around and saw his little sister sitting on the living room floor with her coloring book. Lindsay was watching him with that look that, to Don, made her seem much older than her seven years.

"Where's Mom and Dad?" Don mouthed. Lindsay pointed into the kitchen, and Don let out a sigh of relief. He looked back at his sister and held a finger up to his mouth, and she smiled and pretended to zip her lips. Don mouthed, "Thank you," as he made his way upstairs as quietly as he could, trying not to stumble too much.

Lindsay went back to coloring until she heard footsteps and her mom ask, "Was that your brother that just got home?"

Lindsay looked up at her mom and nodded.

"Did he go on up to bed?" Margaret questioned. Again, Lindsay nodded. Smiling, Margaret told her daughter, "I think it's about time for you to get to bed too. It's getting late."

Nodding, Lindsay gathered up her things and gave her mother a hug and kiss goodnight before she bounded up the stairs with the grace and energy only a child could have.

Chuckling slightly, Margaret just shook her head and went back into the kitchen to help her husband finish cleaning up.

0

Don groaned when he woke up, his head was pounding and his stomach was obviously very upset with him. Barely opening his eyes, he rolled over slowly and saw his sister sitting on his desk chair watching him with a curious expression, the same one she had when she was learning something new.

"What are you doing in here Linds?" Don sighed, trying to swallow the nausea that was building as he talked.

Wordlessly, Lindsay pointed to his nightstand. And when Don looked over to where she was pointing he saw a glass of water, some crackers, and a bottle of Aspirin.

Closing his eyes for a second, Don slowly sat up in his bed and motioned for Lindsay to come over. Silently, she jumped off the chair and made her way over, crawling up on the bed beside him.

Don wrapped his arms around her shoulder and whispered, "Thanks, Linds."

Lindsay just smiled up at her brother.

**Present...**

When Don woke up, his head was pounding with the familiar feel of a hangover. Opening his eyes, he slowly looked around and realized he was in his own bed in his apartment. Turning onto his side, he noticed a glass of water, some crackers, and a bottle of Aspirin on his nightstand along with a note. Smirking slightly, Don grabbed the note. It read, "_Rough night?_" with a smiley face. Rolling his eyes, Don couldn't help but smile. His little sister definitely had a sense of humor.


	2. Understanding

Understanding

**Present...**

"Do either of you know if Don's coming to dinner?" Alan asked his two youngest kids as they helped him set the table.

"I haven't talked to him since this morning," Charlie answered as he sat the salad on the table before looking over at his younger sister.

Lindsay looked up from placing the forks and knives and shrugged.

Alan nodded. "Well, we'll save him some just in case," he said.

His kids nodded and went back to what they were doing. Alan paused for a moment, sighing as he watched his daughter. He had long ago learned asking 'yes or no' questions was the easiest way to communicate with her, unless using a notepad to write back and forth. As her mother had said, Lindsay wore her heart on her sleeve, but despite her very expressive face and body language, neither Alan nor Charlie could read her as well as Don. Even Margaret had had trouble figuring out what was on her daughter's mind. But somehow Don had always been able to understand his sister, all she had to do was look at him and he knew. Alan had never understood it. He'd asked his son once, but even Don couldn't explain it. Don had merely told his father that it was her eyes. He'd said that Lindsay's eyes said everything, but Alan had never been able to read her eyes, not the way Don could at least.

When she was a child, not much older than Charlie when they'd figured out he was special, Alan and Margaret had worried there was something wrong with their daughter. Though she'd always been a quiet baby, Lindsay had learned to talk just as well as her brothers had, better than Charlie actually. But within a couple years, they were lucky to get Lindsay to say anything.

**Twenty-four years ago...**

"Do you think there's something wrong with her?" Alan asked his wife worriedly.

Margaret sighed. "Alan..."

"I'm serious," Alan insisted. "She hasn't said a single word to anyone in almost a year."

"Alan," Margaret started seriously, looking her husband in the eyes. "Lindsay is one of the happiest, most content kids I've ever seen. She's almost always smiling, she plays with her brothers and other kids at every opportunity, and she's as smart as any other kid her age." Alan opened his mouth, but Margaret continued before he could speak. "Yes, I agree it's a little concerning she doesn't talk anymore," she agreed wholeheartedly. "But she learned the same as her brothers, and even picked it up faster than Charlie. For some reason, she just...doesn't," Margaret sighed helplessly.

Alan took a deep breath. "I know sweetheart," he agreed quietly. "But that's what has me concerned. She was talking fine, and now...nothing."

**Present...**

"Hey guys," Don greeted as he entered the Craftsman.

"Hey Don," Charlie said, as Lindsay waved in greeted.

"I was just asking your siblings if you were coming or not, and they didn't know," Alan commented as his eldest came into the dining room.

"I didn't know how late I was gonna be at the office," Don replied, but only Lindsay heard the slightly defensive tone.

She smiled at her brother as he kissed her on the forehead while Charlie asked, "So were you guys able to ID the victim?"

"Still running through the system," Don replied as they sat all sat down.

Charlie opened his mouth, but Alan cut off his son, "Let's just have a nice family dinner, you all can discuss work after we eat."

Lindsay smirked as Charlie shut his mouth and had the appearance of a balloon that had just had the air let out of it.

Alan cast a quick glance at his daughter, but only Don caught the sadness. Looking at his sister out of the corner of his eye, Don knew how frustrated his father felt about Lindsay's lack of vocal communication.

**Twenty-four years ago...**

"You know, Mom and Dad are talking about you..." eleven year old Don said quietly as he sat down on the floor beside his four year old sister.

Lindsay looked up at him and nodded slowly, but she wasn't wearing her usual bright smile. Don sighed.

"They're worried cause you don't talk anymore," Don told her.

Don watched as Lindsay pursed her lips, but didn't look at him, only continued staring at her puzzle, even though he knew she was listening.

"You know how, right?" he questioned, slightly concerned. "I mean, you used to talk." Lindsay nodded, but still didn't look up at him, just picked up a piece and placed it in it's appropriate spot. Don sighed. "Then why'd you stop?" he asked bluntly.

She looked up at him. Not with the focused but dejected look she'd had when he'd said their parents thought there was something wrong with her, not the bright smile she had when she was perfectly content with everything, but with the look she had when she was telling him something with her eyes.

"You just don't want to," Don breathed, almost in a laugh. Lindsay smiled and nodded. Now Don did laugh. "You realize Mom and Dad are freaking out because they think something's wrong with you?"

Lindsay frowned slightly, looking down with an expression Don knew to mean she was trying to figure something out.

"Hey," he started quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder, which got her to look up at him. "I'll talk to Mom and Dad for you," Don assured her in a comforting voice.

She smiled at him and threw her arms around his neck, hugging her brother tightly.

"But you have to come with me, so they know I'm not just making it up," Don added seriously as he hugged her back. Lindsay nodded into his shoulder in agreement.

**Present...**

After dinner, Don was out in the garage with Charlie, listening to him explain a possible way to narrow down their search for a suspect. Lindsay was helping their father clean up.

"So how's work going?" Alan asked his daughter lightly as she passed him the next dish to dry off.

Lindsay's reply was the half-shrug, half-nod that they'd come to understand as the equivalent to "okay".

Alan took a deep breath, continuing to watch his youngest as she washed the dishes while he dried them off. After a few moments though, he decided to try again to engage her in a conversation.

"Don mentioned something the other day about you having a date?" he commented carefully. Alan caught her eye roll and retorted, "What, am I not allowed to know about my daughter's dating life?"

Her reply was shooting him a knowing smirk, the same one Charlie had when he was annoyed with his father's unsolicited "advice" on his life.

"So..." Alan pushed. "How'd it go?"

Lindsay shrugged nonchalantly.

"Does that mean there may be a second date?" her father continued.

His answer was her shrug followed by a shake of the head, which after over twenty years of experience Alan had learned meant "maybe, but probably not".

Silence once again fell over the pair as they continued cleaning the dishes. And Alan was left with his thoughts as he continued observing his daughter. It had been close to two and a half decades since he'd last heard her speak. And if he was honest with himself, he couldn't even remember what the last thing he'd heard her say was. He just remembered that they'd started to notice she'd been quieter than usual, which was saying something because she'd always been a quiet child, even as a baby she had hardly ever cried. But after having three kids to listen talk, and noticing one of them wasn't anymore, he and Margaret had watched her closely. They'd even tried asking her questions, but when her replies were simply nods, shaking her head, or shrugging her shoulders, never any words, Alan and his wife had become very concerned about their daughter. He remembered they had finally decided that maybe it was time they took her to see someone when their eldest had come to them, with his little sister in tow, to tell them that wasn't necessary because there was nothing wrong with Lindsay.

**Twenty-four years ago...**

Alan and Margaret were sitting at the dining room table, discussing where they should take their daughter to get checked out. After talking about the possibility for months, they had finally agreed that they couldn't just ignore Lindsay's silence anymore, and they needed to make sure there was nothing wrong. But then the focus of their conversation came into the dining room behind their eldest son, who was holding onto his little sister's hand.

"Hey guys," Margaret greeted warmly, smiling at her children.

"Where's your brother?" Alan asked. He saw the apprehensive look on his son's face, and that typically meant he had something to tell them that they weren't going to like, which usually meant he'd gotten in trouble at school or it had something to do with Charlie.

Lindsay pointed up as Don added, "He's in his room scribbling on that stupid chalkboard."

"Don..." Margaret chastised lightly. They'd had the conversation about that tone, mainly in regards to his brother, on numerous occasions.

Don rolled his eyes slightly, but muttered, "Sorry."

Alan and Margaret shared a quick glance and silent sigh before turning back to their children.

"So what's going on?" Alan questioned.

Looking down at his sister, who squeezed his hand in reply, Don answered, "It's about Lindsay." When he looked back up at his parents, Don saw the worry spread across their face.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Margaret asked her daughter, voice full of concern.

Lindsay nodded fervently, sending her mother a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing bad, I swear," Don assured his parents.

Margaret let out a heavy sigh, smiling back at her daughter, though looking over at her husband and son anxiously.

Alan glanced at Lindsay and back at Don, sending his son a pointed look as he questioned, "Then what is it?"

"We know you guys are talking about sending her somewhere," Don started slowly.

His parents shared a helpless glance, they hadn't meant for their children to overhear.

"We're not going to send her anywhere," Alan stated firmly, though quieter than his normal voice.

"We're just concerned, that's all," Margaret sighed, looking between her two kids. In that warm tone that only a mother can have, as she looked at her daughter she added, "We just want to make sure you're okay."

Lindsay smiled at her mother, who smiled back.

"But there's nothing wrong with her," Don told them forcefully. Confused, his parents looked at him with furrowed brows. "That's what we came down here to talk to you about," Don continued in a softer tone. "You don't have to take her anywhere, or get her checked out, cause she's fine."

Alan and Margaret shared a puzzled expression.

"Then why don't you talk sweetheart?" Alan asked his daughter bluntly but quietly. Lindsay just smiled and gave a half-shrug, so Alan sent his eldest a questioning look.

Don glanced down at his sister, who gave him the 'go ahead' look. He looked back at his parents and told them, "She just doesn't want to."

There was silence for a moment. Both of his parents seemed frozen in confusion, glancing at each other out of the corner of their eyes and then back at their children, but Don figured it best that he not say anything else while they processed.

"I'm sorry, what?" Alan finally asked in bewilderment. "What do you mean, 'she just doesn't want to'?"

Sighing, Don shrugged, "I guess it's kinda like me cleaning my room." Ignoring his parents raised eyebrows, he continued, "I can...I just don't want to."

Margaret barely contained her eye roll as she smirked slightly, and noticed Lindsay shaking with silent laughter.

"Not a good comparison," Alan remarked dryly.

Don shrugged, and Alan and Margaret shared a look, silently trying to comprehend what their son was telling them.

Finally, Margaret glanced at her son before looking her daughter in the eyes. "But...you _can_ talk, can't you?" she asked in that sweet motherly tone, but no one in the room missed the worry in her voice.

Lindsay nodded forcefully, trying to reassure her mother that she was being honest.

Letting out a deep breath, Margaret glanced back at her husband with a helpless expression.

Alan sighed and looked at his son. "How do you know that's why she doesn't talk?" he inquired, curious.

Don and Lindsay shared a look. Returning his sister's bright smile with a small one of his own, Don looked back at his father and with a shrug replied, "I just...know."

Unsure of what to say, Alan glanced at his wife, who looked equally unsure but easily more calm, then back at his son. He had opened his mouth to say something, when Margaret placed her hand over his and said to their children, "Okay." Alan glanced at her as she continued, with a stern motherly voice, "But...if there is anything wrong, we expect you to tell us immediately. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," Don agreed as he and Lindsay nodded in understanding.

Margaret nodded and repeated, "Okay."

After the kids had went back upstairs, Alan turned to his wife and asked, "What was that?"

Sighing, Margaret looked at her husband, and with a small smile, shrugged, "I believe them." When Alan still looked confused, she continued, almost proudly, "Somehow, Don can understand her with just a look. I don't understand it either, but I trust my kids." Margaret smirked as she added, "Besides, Don is a very protective big brother, even with Charlie. He wouldn't say there was nothing wrong if there really was."

Alan had to nod in concession on that point. But he still didn't understand one thing. "Why doesn't she want to talk, though?" he wondered.

Margaret shrugged. "I don't know," she said lightly as she shook her head in confusion. "Maybe it's just a phase..." she suggested.

Nodding, Alan mumbled, "I hope so..."

**Present...**

Alan smiled as he watched his two youngest children work. Don had gone back to the office to gather the extra information Charlie needed for this new equation. And since Amita was out of town on a conference, Charlie had enlisted Lindsay to help him with the computer program. Though not on her brother's level when it came to numbers, Lindsay was good with computers, and ran her own web design company, where she spent a lot of time with computer codes and creating programs for the websites she built, mostly for small businesses in the area.

Though Charlie wasn't as good as Don at reading his sister, when it came to her helping him with one of Don's cases he didn't have to be. Not only had Lindsay studied computer science and web design in college, she also held a masters degree in criminology, and she usually saw something that Charlie didn't when he was trying to map out the equations regarding criminal behavior. Like her mother, Lindsay understood how Charlie's brain worked. And even if she didn't talk, Lindsay and Charlie had an unspoken understanding, because they both saw the world in a different way than everyone else. But if Alan was honest with himself, he envied the easy synchronicity Charlie had with Lindsay when they were working a problem, or the way Don could understand her with just a look.

The years Margaret had been away with Charlie at Princeton were the hardest. Don was also away at college, which meant it had just been Alan and Lindsay, other than the occasional weekend visits from Don if he didn't have a game and holidays when everyone would be home. They had given Lindsay the choice to go with her mother and Charlie if she wanted to, but she had wanted to stay home with her father. At first, Alan had thought it was nice. His relationship with his daughter has always been a little strained due to her lack of verbal communication and his inability to understand her nonverbally. He'd viewed that time with her as a chance to maybe get to know his daughter better, but being alone with a girl who didn't talk and was entering puberty was probably one of the hardest things Alan had ever done. He never regretted it, of course, and it had helped their relationship. Without anyone around to 'translate' for him, Alan had had to learn how to understand his daughter better. But Lindsay had been patient with him. And she had helped him. For a while, whenever he would try to talk to her, she would write down her reply on the notepad she carried around, but then she would show him how she would communicate that without writing it down. Eventually, Alan didn't need her to write stuff down, not in a regular conversation at least.

Several times since he and his wife had realized there wasn't anything wrong with Lindsay, Alan had asked his daughter why she didn't talk. But even if they were having a conversation on paper, where she would've been able to explain in words he could understand, Lindsay's reply would simply be a look. It wasn't a look she had any other time, but it was the same look every time he asked. And he still didn't understand it.


	3. Broken Silence

Broken Silence

**Present...**

Charlie looked over from his chalkboard when he heard the knock on his office door. He saw Lindsay smiling at him. He was confused for a moment until she held up a manilla folder as she walked over to him.

"Oh, right, the cipher," he realized with a jolt. "Thank you," he told her as she handed him the folder and he began looking through the results.

While her brother was busy reading, Lindsay was looking at the equations he had all over his chalkboard. She got his attention and gestured to them with a questioning look.

"This is an equation I'm working on to connect the two victims to see if the crimes were committed by the same person," Charlie answered. She nodded slowly as she looked at the equation, he could see her doing the math in her head, and it hit him. "Actually, could you take a look at these files Don sent over and see if you can find any commonalities that would suggest a specific pattern or type of criminal?"

Lindsay smirked, but nodded.

Charlie smiled in thanks as she took the files from him and sat down at his desk and began reading through them.

He watched her for a moment before he turned back to his own equation. Unlike Don, who had never cared or paid attention to his math until he'd started helping with cases, Lindsay would always listen with interest as Charlie explained his math and what he was trying to do. His parents would listen too, but they had trouble understanding what he was talking about. His sister, on the other hand, despite not always knowing how it worked or being able to follow his train of thought, had focused on it and would learn all she could. Once he'd even caught her reading through his books, and practicing the equations in them. Charlie suspected she'd done that a lot more than once in order to follow what he was saying, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless. Lindsay understands him in a way no one else except their mother had. But unlike their mother, Lindsay understands him, and vice versa, because they both know what it's like to see things in a way no one else does.

**Eighteen years ago...**

"This is bullshit!" ten year old Lindsay heard her brother Don yell before hearing a door slam shut.

"Watch your language!" she heard her father yell from downstairs.

Lindsay had overheard her parents talking the other day about Charlie going to school with Don, and how they would end up graduating the same day. She was guessing that they'd just informed Don about that.

A couple minutes later, Lindsay saw a short curly-headed figure walking as fast as he could past her bedroom door. She sighed heavily, but marked her page in her book and hopped down off of her bed to go check on her brother.

She knocked on his bedroom door, but when no reply came she took that as it was ok to go in. When she first entered the room, Lindsay didn't see him, but she caught the bedspread sliding slightly. Shutting the door behind her, she made her way around to the other side of the bed, where she found Charlie sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, with a few silent tears flowing down his face as he clutched his notebook and pencil.

Walking over, Lindsay sat down next to her brother, pulled her knees to her chest and rested her arms on top. She didn't do anything else, just sat there. Charlie glanced over at her a few times, but otherwise didn't move either. And they stayed like that for several minutes.

Finally, without looking over at his sister, Charlie whispered, "Don hates me."

Lindsay looked over at him and shook her head.

"Yes, he does Linds," Charlie asserted.

Grabbing her brother's shoulder to make him look at her, Lindsay gave him a firm look and once again shook her head.

Charlie stared at her for a few seconds before letting out a tired breath. "He doesn't want me going to school with him," he muttered.

Smirking, Lindsay nodded her head in agreement, with a look that Charlie knew as well as Don's eye roll that meant 'duh'.

"What am I supposed to do then?" Charlie asked dejectedly. "I gotta go..."

Lindsay just shrugged helplessly. She didn't know.

The two sat there on the floor in silence, looking between their feet and out the window, for a while. Finally, Charlie opened up his notebook and began scribbling numbers again.

It was a couple minutes before he realized Lindsay was looking over his shoulder, reading every number and equation he wrote down. He glanced at her, and after they shared a quick look, Charlie grabbed another notebook out from under his bed and handed it to her. She smiled at him as he handed her the extra pencil he carried around with him.

Charlie went back to scribbling in his notebook, and Lindsay, watching her brother, copied some of the equations he was writing down and worked on trying to solve them herself before nudging Charlie to check her work. And they continued that pattern until their mom came and told them it was time for dinner.

**Present...**

After Lindsay had finished writing down her take on the victims, the crimes themselves, and possible suspects, she knocked on the desk loudly to get Charlie's attention. He startled slightly, causing her to smirk and fight to hold in a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes at her apparent amusement, but took the notepad from her with a look of gratitude. As he read over her assessment, he would cast the occasional glance up at his sister as discretely as he could. Charlie couldn't help but wonder, with as smart and intuitive as she was, how much more of an impact she could make if she would talk.

Being only two years older, Charlie didn't really remember when his sister learned to talk, before she just decided to stop. Everyone said she had learned quickly, and spoke very well, but Charlie only knew her silence. Except for the only time he heard her break it. It was something he'd never told anyone else about, not even Don.

**Two years ago...**

Don had finally managed to get Charlie out of the garage, albeit by brute force and threats, and away from his work on P v. NP to go see their mother, even if only for a few minutes. He did feel guilty for spending almost all of his time in the garage working on the equation, but the worse feeling was seeing his mother get sicker and sicker.

As he reached the bedroom door, Charlie had to fight the urge to turn around and run back to his numbers with every muscle in his body. But he also knew Don was standing guard at the bottom of the steps, just in case he tried.

Swallowing hard, Charlie took a hesitant step into the room. He was thankful that Lindsay was obstructing his view of their mother, it gave him even just a few more seconds to prepare himself to see her.

He took a deep breath as he watched his sister bend over and give their mother a kiss on the forehead. But his jaw dropped and he froze when he heard her whisper, "I love you Mom."

A moment later, Lindsay stood up and sighed, wiping a tear away as she turned to leave. But she paused when she saw Charlie standing in front of the door, staring at her in frozen astonishment.

Charlie didn't have any memories of his sister speaking. He would have expected after all these years her voice would crack or be raspy from nonuse, but it was the opposite. It had sounded smooth and soft, and warm, just like her smile.

Lindsay didn't give any indication that she knew Charlie had heard her speak. Instead, she just walked over to her brother and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Charlie managed to return the hug a little. After releasing him, Lindsay gave him a reassuring smile before walking around him to go back downstairs and give him some privacy with their mother.

Still struggling a little from his shock, Charlie took a deep breath and looked back over at the bed, where his mother was smiling at him, despite her pale, sickly appearance.

"Hey Charlie," she greeted warmly.

**Present...**

As Lindsay was leaving, Charlie asked, "Are you coming over for dinner tonight?"

She turned back around to look at her brother and shrugged.

"You should," Charlie told her. "Dad's making lasagna."

Smiling, Lindsay gave him a thumbs up.

Charlie smirked, and replied, "See you tonight," as she waved and left, before he went back to his equation.

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**A/N: Hope you liked them! I'll probably add some more here and there, but that's all I got for now. As always, reviews are greatly appreciated!**


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